


Love Will Heal Our Wounds

by Katfish_1967



Series: PortEng oneshots [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1800’s, Anglo-Portuguese army, England gets stabbed so if you don’t like blood then you don’t have to read, M/M, Peninsular War, Portugal just loves England a lot and doesn’t like him putting himself in harms way, based on a headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katfish_1967/pseuds/Katfish_1967
Summary: (Based off a headcanon I saw)During the Peninsular War England gets injured. He’s too prideful to heal himself so Portugal’s does it for him.





	Love Will Heal Our Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> The is set during the peninsular war which was between Spain and England and Portugal. English troops were sent to fight alongside and train the Portuguese troops but they ended forming one big army instead of two separate ones. 
> 
> This is based of a headcanon by @heta.memes on instagram about nations and their healing ability so I guess I wrote this for them as they love PortEng and so do I.

**1809**

The wound was large, blood staining his uniform. He was losing energy quickly and his arms felt like lead. If he fought any longer he wouldn’t be able to heal himself. Yet he couldn’t find it within himself to stop. Healing took a lot of energy and it would take at least a week for him to recover. How many of his men would be killed while he sat away from the battlefield like a coward? He’d rather die with his men than heal himself and know he’d abandoned his soldiers in their time of need.

The sun was harsh and he wasn’t used to fighting in conditions like that. His men were at a disadvantage. The Spanish army was used to it. Had it been raining he may have felt confident in his ability. He was a skilled fighter and was used to worse conditions when fighting. His hands burned as he gripped his sword tighter to stop it slipping in his grip due to sweat.

His vision blackened for a moment and when it returned a sword had been plunged into the side opposite his previous wound. He fell to his knees, unable to breath anything more than a stuttered gasp. His vision was blurring quickly and he just had time to catch a glimpse of the person who stabbed him. Spain’s smirk was the last thing he saw before an inky blanket fell over him and he passed out.

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

Arthur felt a pleasant warmth on his face when he regained consciousness. He felt a wall digging into his back, making it obvious he was sitting upright. He thought he had died and had just completed his regeneration. The more feeling he gained back the more he realised this wasn’t true. A hand gripped his side, pressing directly over the stab wound, while the other was on his cheek and there was a weight on his lower legs, from someone sitting there. The light strokes on his face were filled with affection.

He willed his eyes open and when they did he found himself staring into startling green eyes bursting with worry.

Arthur felt the skin around his wound knit together and the hand leave him. He didn’t get much time to mourn the loss of feeling of those hands on his body as he found himself swept into a hug. The arms were tight and comfortable around his shoulders as an accented voice whispered into his ear.

“I was so worried, meu querido! Please never do something that reckless again, I don’t think my heart could take the stress.” The voice held amusement and an underlying emotion Arthur couldn’t process at that moment.

“I can’t make any promises.” Arthur felt João smile against his neck at the cheekiness of the comment.

“Just don’t make a habit of it.”

“I’ll try my best.”

It should have felt awkward having a fully grown man basically sitting in his lap but Arthur couldn’t find it within himself to care as he pulled the one person who had always been on his side closer and breathed in his unique scent. João smelt like fire and the sea.

He smelt like home to Arthur.

Arthur didn’t dwell on that thought for long. Instead he gripped tighter and let himself revel in the fluttery feeling in his stomach. They’d been through so much together. It often ended up with one of them healing the other because they’re too prideful to do it themselves. Most nations shied away from healing others because of the attraction it left behind. The attraction could be a weakness the other to extort but Arthur and João never had that worry. Healing each other was almost instinct to them at this point.

João moves one of his hands from Arthur’s back to Arthur’s chest. He could feel the light thumping of his heartbeat letting him know he was alive and well. Arthur wrapped his fingers around João’s and brought the hand to his lips, laying gentle kisses on each knuckle. João’s breath tickled his neck as he let out a huff of a laugh.

They were far from perfect but their love was real. Years of friendship turned it into a love that could raise armies and fight wars.

Their love would heal their wounds. Forever.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Meu querido means my dear in Portuguese.


End file.
